mytasteislikecandy
Tasty
- Joined
- May 16, 2002
- Posts
- 2,100
This is a closed thread for myself and Sensational204. It will be a non-consent/interracial thread. If this interests you, feel free to read along.
Name: Erika Smythe
Age: 25
Stats: Filipina/Latina mix, dark long hair, asian eyes, full lips. 5’7, 145 lbs, C-cup breasts, full round ass. Lives alone in an apartment building in NYC.
IC:
Another day at the office, finished. I was so thankful that it was Friday. I paid the cabby and then opened the cab door, struggling to pull my briefcase and Kenneth Cole purse out of the door before the overzealous cab driver zoomed off to find another fare. I had barely slammed the door when he raced off, going to make another dollar in the Big Apple. I cursed as I tripped over the curb, almost snapping the heel off my shoe. The cold New York wind whipped my long hair across my face, stinging my cheeks. I swore that one day I was going to move, but nowhere else paid as much for Interior Design as New Yorkers did. I climbed the 9 stairs to the front door of my building where Arthur, the doorman, stood waiting.
“Good evening, Miss Smythe.” He said as he helped me into the lobby.
“Thank you, Arthur.” I replied, already moving toward my mailbox to pick up another day’s junk mail. As I was leaning over to open my bottom box, I caught a glimpse of red out of the corner of my eye. I straightened up and looked to my left where a tall black man was headed out of the building. His red tie was flying back over his shoulder, so at least I’d figured out what had caught my attention. I examined him from behind, noting his smooth bald head, his broad shoulders and strong looking back. He was wearing a well cut dark gray business suit that fit him like it had been designed only for him. Hell, if he can afford living here, I thought, it probably was tailored just for him. I followed his form down the stairs where he disappeared into a cab. I smiled wistfully and headed toward the elevator, which would take me upstairs to my lonely apartment and my ever loyal cat.
Over the next few weeks, my fascination with the man I had seen in the lobby became almost an obsession. I’d always caught glimpses of him leaving the building. I assumed that the reason I was so infatuated was because I hadn’t seen his face yet. Maybe when that happened, I could put an end to this foolishness. You see, I had become quite intrigued with discovering who he was. His name was Damon, he lived in the apartment directly above mine, and he was not married. This I had learned from Arthur. Poor old guy didn’t even realize why I wanted to know. I was just good at working it into our conversations. I’d even taken to strolling Damon’s hallway in front of his apartment, hoping for a chance meeting. It was bound to happen one day. I just hoped it was sooner rather than later. Some nights I could hear him moving around upstairs, some old soul or new R and B music playing on his stereo. On those nights, I’d imagine I was there with him, snuggled up on his couch, sharing our dreams. I had started to think I was losing it.
One night, after an amazingly bad day at work, I was sitting on my couch sipping a glass of zinfandel. I had just seen Damon leaving by yet another yellow cab, so I knew my chances of meeting him in his hall tonight were slim to none. But for some reason, I told myself I’d stroll by before I went out that evening. I took extreme care in getting ready for my night out. I took a long shower, shaving my legs and my pussy so that both were equally smooth. A girl could never be too prepared, was my motto. I slipped on a pair of sheer black thigh highs, a short black skirt and a red corset that laced up the front. My breasts looked like they were about to spill out the top, but that was the look I was going for. I slipped on my black pumps, grabbed my purse, and was out the door. I rode the elevator to Damon’s floor and exited two apartments down from his. I moved casually in that direction, not expecting anything other than the usual tonight. When I was directly across from his door, I glanced at it and stopped dead in my tracks. His door was open. Just an inch or so, but OPEN! I couldn’t believe what thoughts were racing through my mind. I told myself that he wasn’t home. I could sneak in, find a picture, and maybe all this nonsense could be put to rest. I took a deep breath and before my determination could leave me, I pushed his door wide and entered his living room. I left the door open just an inch and looked around the apartment of my obsession.
His furniture was nice. Black leather with chrome and glass tables. Very modern. I promised myself I’d find one picture and leave. I moved toward his fireplace were there were several silver-framed photos. I had just picked one up and was staring at his face when I heard the door close behind me. I froze……I was caught.
Name: Erika Smythe
Age: 25
Stats: Filipina/Latina mix, dark long hair, asian eyes, full lips. 5’7, 145 lbs, C-cup breasts, full round ass. Lives alone in an apartment building in NYC.
IC:
Another day at the office, finished. I was so thankful that it was Friday. I paid the cabby and then opened the cab door, struggling to pull my briefcase and Kenneth Cole purse out of the door before the overzealous cab driver zoomed off to find another fare. I had barely slammed the door when he raced off, going to make another dollar in the Big Apple. I cursed as I tripped over the curb, almost snapping the heel off my shoe. The cold New York wind whipped my long hair across my face, stinging my cheeks. I swore that one day I was going to move, but nowhere else paid as much for Interior Design as New Yorkers did. I climbed the 9 stairs to the front door of my building where Arthur, the doorman, stood waiting.
“Good evening, Miss Smythe.” He said as he helped me into the lobby.
“Thank you, Arthur.” I replied, already moving toward my mailbox to pick up another day’s junk mail. As I was leaning over to open my bottom box, I caught a glimpse of red out of the corner of my eye. I straightened up and looked to my left where a tall black man was headed out of the building. His red tie was flying back over his shoulder, so at least I’d figured out what had caught my attention. I examined him from behind, noting his smooth bald head, his broad shoulders and strong looking back. He was wearing a well cut dark gray business suit that fit him like it had been designed only for him. Hell, if he can afford living here, I thought, it probably was tailored just for him. I followed his form down the stairs where he disappeared into a cab. I smiled wistfully and headed toward the elevator, which would take me upstairs to my lonely apartment and my ever loyal cat.
Over the next few weeks, my fascination with the man I had seen in the lobby became almost an obsession. I’d always caught glimpses of him leaving the building. I assumed that the reason I was so infatuated was because I hadn’t seen his face yet. Maybe when that happened, I could put an end to this foolishness. You see, I had become quite intrigued with discovering who he was. His name was Damon, he lived in the apartment directly above mine, and he was not married. This I had learned from Arthur. Poor old guy didn’t even realize why I wanted to know. I was just good at working it into our conversations. I’d even taken to strolling Damon’s hallway in front of his apartment, hoping for a chance meeting. It was bound to happen one day. I just hoped it was sooner rather than later. Some nights I could hear him moving around upstairs, some old soul or new R and B music playing on his stereo. On those nights, I’d imagine I was there with him, snuggled up on his couch, sharing our dreams. I had started to think I was losing it.
One night, after an amazingly bad day at work, I was sitting on my couch sipping a glass of zinfandel. I had just seen Damon leaving by yet another yellow cab, so I knew my chances of meeting him in his hall tonight were slim to none. But for some reason, I told myself I’d stroll by before I went out that evening. I took extreme care in getting ready for my night out. I took a long shower, shaving my legs and my pussy so that both were equally smooth. A girl could never be too prepared, was my motto. I slipped on a pair of sheer black thigh highs, a short black skirt and a red corset that laced up the front. My breasts looked like they were about to spill out the top, but that was the look I was going for. I slipped on my black pumps, grabbed my purse, and was out the door. I rode the elevator to Damon’s floor and exited two apartments down from his. I moved casually in that direction, not expecting anything other than the usual tonight. When I was directly across from his door, I glanced at it and stopped dead in my tracks. His door was open. Just an inch or so, but OPEN! I couldn’t believe what thoughts were racing through my mind. I told myself that he wasn’t home. I could sneak in, find a picture, and maybe all this nonsense could be put to rest. I took a deep breath and before my determination could leave me, I pushed his door wide and entered his living room. I left the door open just an inch and looked around the apartment of my obsession.
His furniture was nice. Black leather with chrome and glass tables. Very modern. I promised myself I’d find one picture and leave. I moved toward his fireplace were there were several silver-framed photos. I had just picked one up and was staring at his face when I heard the door close behind me. I froze……I was caught.
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